


Ice Mirror

by LambdaHFH



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vanilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LambdaHFH/pseuds/LambdaHFH
Summary: Fjorm hasn't slept the same since the war with Muspell. So many thoughts kept her up at night, but a fateful encounter may finally sweep away her misgivings, and allow her to open up.
Relationships: Fjorm/Summoner | Eclat | Kiran
Comments: 11
Kudos: 40





	Ice Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> This pairing was a request I got on my first fic, Sweet Dreams, by an anonymous commentator. I hope you like it anon! More notes at the end.

She felt it almost nightly, it seemed. In her dreams, and sometimes during her waking hours.

The Flames.

In their unrestrained hunger they had consumed the countryside, the farms of her people. Her sister. She often dreamt about the last moments of her sister’s life. The scorched tatters of her dress, the way she shivered as she lay at the feat of the horrid King of Muspell. The Blood staining his scythe. These dreams often catapulted her back to consciousness, to shivering fits and stifled sobs on moonless nights.

Gunnthra had bid her to escape, to make a happy life elsewhere. Her sister’s final pleas were now her guiding star.

Fjorm would console herself that she was safe now. The Princess of Nifl’s new home within the great halls of the Order of Heroes was safe, guarded by heroes from foreign worlds and her new friends. The heat of Muspell couldn’t reach her here and even if it could… her friends would rush to her side. She could calm herself, stop the shaking and the sobbing after a time, but the loneliness some nights was too much to bear, and she would find herself wandering the halls of the Order late at night. If only because returning to sleep was unpalatable.

On these self-imposed guard shifts she mulled on what she should do with herself. She’d left Nifl knowing that her life would be cut short. She offered it freely in the Rite of Frost, to save the rest of her family and stop Surtr’s mad dream to burn the world to ash. Her Kingdom needed a leader that would spend their days rebuilding, looking to the future. So she left things to Hrid, because she didn’t have a future. A thought she tried to throw away almost as soon as it would rear its head. She couldn’t spend time on such notions, if all she had was now.

The other reason she came to the Order was her honor couldn’t permit her to be anywhere else, not until her debt was paid. A debt to a confusing man that decorated his room with the art of dragon children, and in the same room dress down men who could cut him in half on a moments notice. In work the Summoner was as deadly serious and pragmatic as they came, but otherwise cared very little for the perceptions of those around him.

As Fjorm turned into the Order’s great library she fondly recalled the early summer festival when Askran’s celebrated the opening in marriageable season. Commander Anna had asked her to represent the Crown in the affair, which she had staunchly refused but Anna had more staunchly insisted upon. In the end, Anna procured for her dress from Nifl, festooned with Pegasus feathers. A dress she hadn’t thought she would ever wear.

During the ceremony in which the symbolic brides cast their bouquets into the crowd, Kiran had caught hers. Corrin, rightfully but perhaps indignantly, pointed out that Kiran couldn’t possibly be a bride the Summoner responded, some could say, irrationally.

“What you mean I can’t be a bride? Of course, I can be a bride. I would be best bride! I dream of being a bride! You think I don’t have the hips for that dress Corrin? You can’t I can’t rock it?”

Kiran’s display elicited choruses of laughter, even from the embarrassed Corrin. Fjorm herself nearly fell to her knees, but more than that she felt… embarrassed? Even now her cheeks flushed at the idea that Kiran would create such a fuss at the idea of marrying, though sometimes she forgot to remove her from the end of that sentence. Another thought she didn’t have time for. Still, Kiran carried her bouquet for the rest of the festival, and delighted in teasing her about how he looked forward to welcoming her home from the fields every day. He’d teased her so much that by the end of the Festival he simply had to say her name and her body felt as though it were aflame.

Even now she felt like she could almost hear him saying her name. It came to her like a low whisper, with an intent she couldn’t recognize but her heart fluttered all the same.

“Fjorm.”

“Fjorm.”

“FJORM,” it came more forcefully, shaking the princess from her reverie. Fjorm looked around the darkened room with her torch for the source of the sound.

“Kiran?” she whispered back.

“In here!” Said a suit of armor between two bookcases. She approached, befuddled. Fjorm rested Lieptr against a solid oak bookcase, then reached up and lifted the helm’s visor to reveal the Summoners eyes, alighted with excitement.

“Fjorm, I’m so glad to see you!” he whispered. “I need you to help me get out of here, I’m stuck.”

Fjorm’s eyes widened with shock. It had been a long time since the majority of the Order had gone to bed for the night. How long had he been in there? Fjorm quickly placed her torch in a nearby brazier, allowing her to see all of the buckles and toggles of the suit. First she removed the helmet, unleashing the summoner’s sweat head from its confines. The appreciation he projected with his eyes swelled as his goofy, unrestrained grin came into view.

“You’re a life saver Fjorm!” Kiran endeavored to keep his voice low, but still it brimmed with a gratitude that felt infectious to the Princess.

“Of course, I couldn’t leave you in there all night,” she said as she made for the toggles on the side of the chest. Fjorm was beginning to see the problem. This was an ornamental suit of armor, fused in the joints and not intended to be worn, though a series of side attachments would allow it to open and close like a door.

“Kiran how did you get in here?”

“Well, I was playing hide and seek with Fae, Myrrh, and Idunn, so I had Lewyn teleport me into this suit. It’s a great hiding place.”

Fjorm straightened after releasing the next buckle, a look of amused incredulousness across her face as she cocked her head.

“You must be a master at hide and seek.”

“It’s why I’m held in such high esteem. They know of my prowess at the King’s game as far as Embla.”

“Kiran, why do you keep whispering,” Fjorm said as she stifled her laughter.

“What you mean? We’re in a library.”

Fjorm released what some would consider an unlady-like bark of laughter, a sound so joyous it infected the Summoner. The pair reveled in the absurdity of the moment, briefly warming the cold, dark corner of the library. After wiping a tear from her eye, Fjorm set to work releasing the summoner.

Once he had been freed, the pair settled at a nearby table.

“So Fjorm, why are you up so late? Looking to beat the rush for…” Kiran lifted a nearby tome left out by an irresponsible patron. The Princess waited politely for Kiran to finish his sentence, but the look of puzzlement on his face suggested it wasn’t going well.

“I can’t read this.”

“It’s quite alright,” she said with a snort. “I’m often up this late, I have trouble sleeping.”

Kiran nodded, and when he didn’t ask why she wondered if he truly understood.

“Do you want company?” He extended his hand to her.

The question, and the gesture, surprised her. Her walks were solemn, self-reflective affairs. Quietly, she admitted to herself that she didn’t want to show him her indecisiveness.

“It’s quite alright Kiran, but thank you.” She feared almost immediately that her tone was too cold, that he might take offense. However, he didn’t take his hand back.

“Then I must request, as my savior, that you accompany me to my quarters. They say the roads are rife with brigands late into the night.”

Fjorm, momentarily, wished to protest but her sister’s words came to mind unbidden. She should pursue happiness, and Fjorm would very much like to take Kiran’s hand.

“As knight of the Order, it would be ill of me to leave a damsel to potential harm,” Kiran’s glee at her response was second only to the look on his face when she took his hand in things that made her heart pound. The pair gathered Leiptr and her torch and made their way to the Summoner’s quarters – hand in hand.

The pair kept their voices low as the spoke, keeping conversation light as they approached a door Fjorm had seen hundreds of times, but it felt different in the gentle light of their burning torch. Fjorm had become aware of the small callouses forming on the summoner’s hands. Hands that were still soft, unaccustomed to a lifestyle in which one needed a weapon. As they snuck quietly down the halls, she felt Kiran’s thumb brushing her the back of her hand, almost as if he was petting it. It was curious to her at first, but not unpleasant though she found she was nervous to return the gesture.

“This is then where I take my leave of you,” she said, careful to keep the tinge of disappointment she felt at the parting from showing.

“I’ll be up for a little while yet, do you want to stick around for a bit?” If Kiran intended something, his face betrayed nothing more than the earnest hope she would stay. She should go, she knew. Too long away from her patrol, she started to tell herself before something reminded her that she was never asked to patrol to begin with.

“You must certain be tired Kiran after spending so long in that suit of armor. Surely you wish to sleep.”

“Weeeeellll… I… kinda fell asleep inside it, after it was clear no one would find me.” “You… slept standing up?”

"I mean, not well, but yeah. I’m wide awake now… and I wouldn’t mind the company. It feels like it’s been so long since we’ve talked. If it’s not too much to say… I’ve missed being around you.”

It was Kiran’s turn to blush, it seemed. Though as confessed his desire to spend more time with her his voice did not tremble the way Fjorm was sure hers would, and he did not look away. Instead, it was her who looked aside bashfully.

“I… know how you feel. I suppose my rounds can wait a little longer.”

Fjorm looked back to the summoner when he squeezed her hand tenderly, only to find elation etched into every inch of his face. She knew she felt the same, though it was mixed with trepidation. The pair released hands while he dug into his coat for his ring of keys and unlocked the door, the soft torchlight revealing a well lived space.

Kiran’s walls were nearly covered, save for the map of Zenith behind his desk, in gifts. Art created the young manaketes he proudly displayed, like a father who refused to hide his love for his century’s old children. Next to his desk sat an ornate weapon rack on which sat only a elegant Sacaen bow that she was sure he had never once fired, on an armor stand to the left of it three cloaks the colors of gold, ember, and rivers. Kiran it seemed turn the small space he had to himself into a monument to his cherished friends. When she saw on his dresser her bouquet, still in full bloom almost certainly from magical aid, her heart skipped a beat.

“Can I take your cloak?” he offered as he secured the torch in a brazier. “You can sit wherever you like.”

Fjorm nodded wordlessly as she began the involved process of removing her the armored cloak, and was surprised to find him ready to accept it, which he did with a thank you and a slight bow. The fair haired Niflian took a seat on his bed while he hung her cloak over his armor stand.

He had kept her bouquet? He kept her bouquet. What did that mean? Surely it was just another token, but he had nothing from the Lords of Judgral nor the mercenaries of Tellius. Did that make her bouquet special to him? Certainly it must not be so vital that it would be enshrined among these other treasures… but he had it enchanted. Those flowers had not lost their life yet, though the time had long past since she wore that dress.

Fjorm’s internal debate was interrupted by Kiran sitting next to her on his bed. He’d shed his heavy coat as well as his boots. Was she rood for leaving hers on? Ahh! How impolite of her.

“So… what do you think?” he said gesturing to his walls.

“It’s grand. Your love for the manaketes is so apparent…. So full. I can’t help but feel like you’ve surrounded yourself with love.”

Kiran grinned.

“In my world I wasn’t really allowed to do things like this, so when Alfonse and Sharena gave me this room and told me I could fill it however I wanted… I felt kind of like a kid again. Nothing in here isn’t something that’s meaningful to me.”

Kiran looked around his room in satisfaction.

“I understand. My own private rooms in the castle were… I did not decide the décor, let us say. My parents as well did not keep drawings like trophies, I can only imagine how visiting nobles would react,” Fjorm affected a gruffer tone that scratched at the back of her throat. “These people must be soft, look how they dote on their children. Weakness!”

Kiran’s laughter was unrestrained and vibrant, and brought a smile to Fjorm’s lips.

“I didn’t know you did voices! That’s so good!”

“Yes, well… You do so many silly voices. I found myself wanting to try as well.”

“Do you enjoy it?

She nodded. “I do. When next I see Yglr I will regale her my newfound skills. What will she think when she discovers the Jester I’ve become in your care.”

“I’ll be thrown in the dungeon for certain then. Corrupting a Princess with my tomfoolery.”

“Now now,” she said, wagging her finger. “Princess no longer. I am simply a member of the Order of Heroes… and perhaps a jester in training.”

“Perhaps?”

“It is undecided, at the moment.”

Fjorm reached down and pulled at her boots, lined with Pegasus feathers they were some of the most comfortable footwear she had ever known. She placed them gently next to each other at the side of Kiran’s bed before pulling her legs in beneath her.

“Do you think it would be… impertinent… to ask Yglr to send something as a memento from her and Hrid? If we are being honest…”

“Honesty is the best policy,” he confirmed.

“Then I do… miss them, terribly…” Within her Fjorm felt something open akin to a gate. Since she had arrived, she hadn’t once mentioned missing her family or her home to anyone. She feared being seen as ungrateful to her hosts but as empathy and concern became prominent in Kiran’s features she wondered if she was afraid to say it out loud, to hear it herself. Unbidden she remembered why she was walking the halls at such a late hour. She must not tell him. She must stay strong.

“You should, of course. I’m sure they would be happy to, and I bet they miss you just as much,” Kiran scooted closer to Fjorm, the scant inches between them disappearing as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her into him.

It felt as though her body didn’t know what to do. At once she needed all of her will to stifle thoughts of her lost sister but the closeness and proximity of this man she didn’t want to adore picked at the edges of her will. His touch, tender in contact but firm in support, had an intensity she was unaccustomed to. What should she do? She opened her mouth, though her voice was just a whisper.

“And… if I ask for something of…” she couldn’t finish her thought as tears fell unrestrained, her fists balling in the sheets beneath her. Fjorm’s jaw clenched as she demanded her body comply with her with her desire to not come undone.

Kiran’s draw was gentle, though Fjorm didn’t resist as he pulled her into his chest. She released her grip and threw her hands around the Summoner who fully engaged her embrace. He said nothing as she sobbed into his chest, content to hold her close. His fingers laced their way through her golden locks, scratching idly while he patted her back.

Fjorm was flooded with all of the things she wouldn’t say to herself these many months, things she buried. She missed her elder sister so much that it would rend her heart to dwell on it. She missed her family, her kingdom, her room. She hated that Muspell… that Surtr took so much from her. She loathed it, and she loathed feeling so weak. She loathed being afraid that she someday just won’t awaken in the morning. She lived on borrowed time.

Between choked sobs she gave voice to all of this. Her heart told her it was the only way to stop the tears, and never once did Kiran reject her. She saw no looks of pity or discomfort when she had finally managed to return her attention to the man who held her. He let her be, let her share these things and burned away at her in the depths of night.

As her tears finally began to dry, maybe she had no more left to release, she thought, Fjorm made her hardest confession laying in Kiran’s arms, her head resting on his shoulder.

“There are so many wonderful people here… but I find I must keep them at a distance.”

“Why is that?” he said as he raked his fingers through her hair.

“What… what if they are taken from me as well? I don’t think I could bare it a second time.”

“Fjorm… I understand but, I think you’ve got to pursue whatever will make you happy. Separation like that is… undoubtedly painful, but its only so because you loved Gunnthra so deeply and completely. That’s beautiful, you know. Those are the experiences that keep people going. If we aren’t fighting so that people can be free to experience that kind of connection, then why take the risks?”

“You think I should take risks?” she replied, only slightly embittered.

“I mean, you take risks every day you go out to fight… but yeah. You should pursue happiness, like your sister said.”

“Happiness?”

“Pursue it. Recklessly.”

Fjorm was stumped. She had spent so long pushing aside the things she told Kiran that she didn’t really know what would make her happy. She accepted her death, accepted her new role… she used her honor to push aside things that would have been too difficult to face. So what would make her happy now?

From where she lay curled up against Kiran she could see her bouquet. The one she threw, the one he caught, and defended so boldly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. The first thing that answered her was the heat from his body, she could feel it through his shirt on her cheeks. Next his raking fingers, which had begun to swirl in her hair almost playfully though she was sure without intent more than comforting her. Her own hands divested of the gauntlets she normally wore lay idle against his stomach.

She had never before shared such… intimate closeness with someone with whom she was not related. Divested, for the moment at least, of the pain that weighed on her heart she found something new. Fjorm liked where she was, in the arms of the summoner. Once again the heat that come with her willful musings about Kiran made it self known in her cheeks… and in her chest. What would make her happy, she wondered.

She pursued it. Recklessly.

Without words the former Princess pushed herself forward and sealed her lips against his. He did not react at first, most assuredly he was shocked, but she wasn’t prepared for the moment when his returned her affections. His lips pressed back against hers, and she threatened to melt on the spot.

When their embrace ended, she breathed a little more heavily than she expected, unaccustomed to the motions though not unaware. Gunnthra’s recommendations of stories where princesses and knights fell in passionate, unmistakable love had informed her generally what it meant to kiss another. Though his eyes were still wide with confusion. He seemed to be processing.

Had she made a mistake?

She made to apologize; a new sense of panic ignited in her chest only to be snuffed out when he pulled her back into him.

His lips pressed against hers with a hunger she understood, kindred to her own. She shuddered at his touch, and to her surprise when they parted she released a soft groan of disappointment. Certainly, they needed to breathe, but every moment they did not share felt suddenly to her like an eternity. Fjorm pulled herself to her knees, now straddling the summoner’s thighs and returned, peppering dozens of chaste expressions along his jawline before cupping his face and pulling Kiran into her once more.

The softness. The heat. The desire. Fjorm didn’t know what part of kissing she liked most, it all mingled in her like a storm, exciting parts of her that had been long ignored since she left her kingdom. She wasn’t quite sure if she was in control as she fought the urge to perform… unlady like actions.

Kiran, it seemed to her, was under no such compulsion. The summoner’s arms were around her now, holding her body against his. Fjorm was used to the harsh winds of Nifl, and while Askr was much warmer than her home she still preferred to wear the voluminous styles of her home, even if the fabric itself was thicker. One of Kiran’s hands had begun caressing her through her dress, the touch of his hands obscured by clothing she was now beginning to resent, like a shield she couldn’t put down. Should she lift it herself? Was that too forward? What did she really intend to do, a voice at the fringe of her mind asked.

Fjorm paused, taking in shallow breathes. How far would this go? Only moments ago she was sobbing into her friend’s chest and now she straddled him like a Pegasus trading fevered passions. She felt it, her bodies fevered demands long since pushed aside in favor of duty, and a certain idea of personal comfort. Did she intend to give herself to him… or was this something more? Did she want it to be something more. Silently, she cursed her interrupting thoughts.

He took her hand in his while she agonized, and broke her internal dialogue when a series of light kisses.

“Is everything alright?” He asked as she opened her eyes. Had she taken so long to herself to draw his concern? Was she ruining … whatever was happening? Why must it be so hard, she agonized, to simply spend time with one she felt so fondly for? Why must this voice constantly ask her questions, keeping her up at night? Why could she simply not pursue her happiness?

“Kiran…” Fjorm withdrew her hand from his and placed both on his shoulders. Their eyes connected, and the straightened his posture to the best he could to meet the seriousness of the moment. “Kiran… what do you think, when you see me?”

Was that even what she truly wanted to ask him? Would flattery assuage the burden of her anxiety? He grinned at her, as though the worry she would say something difficult had evaporated.

“When we were travelling through Nifl, you showed us the way. The first into battle, the only one capable of navigating the snowy hills, but also I remember when you reignited with Yglr and Hrid, and how excited you were to see them and their clear adoration for you. A well deserved adoration… but most of all I see all of the quiet moments we’ve spent together,” the hand that moments before had been stroking her back was now stroking her cheek. To her surprise, Fjorm leaned into the motion, releasing a quite sigh, “sharing meals, sharing time. Picking on Alfonse and Sharena. They don’t know how much to contribute to their misery.”

Fjorm giggled. “I have never once. I make observations and you get carried away, like when you commissioned Midori to sell you that adhesive for Alfonse’s saddle.”

“And who haggled her down to a reasonable price?”

“I could hardly allow you to be taken advantage of by a young girl.”

“Midori is Anna come again. I see them sometimes commiserating, and with every new Anna that shows up it just gets worse.”

Fjorm grinned, pressing the summoner’s hand against her cheek with her own.

“I think you are simply too soft to haggle with a child…” Her smile faded as she pulled his hand away from her face. How could she continue? What has she expected him to say? In her heart she knew Kiran was not the type to be wanton with midnight passions. His words conveyed admiration; his lips conveyed desire. She was becoming more certain that the feelings he had toward her were more like hers that she had let herself believe… but she couldn’t give in. It wasn’t fair to him… It wasn’t fair to her.

“Kiran… You know that I am not…. There is a limit to my time in Askr. Eventually I’ll…”

“Yesterday I hit Ashnard in the face with an oar.”

“what?” Fjorm was stunned, confused. She was trying to speak to a painful truth and he interrupted her with… Ashnard? The Mad King?

“Kiran what do you mean?” The Mad King of Daein was as his name suggested. A brute, prone to violence with respect for none. “Why did you attack him with an oar?”

“Mostly it was the closest thing to me, but Ashnard is an insane person. It didn’t really like, physically deter him. He mostly thought it was funny, and agreed to back off on those grounds.”

“You are a fool,” her chiding infused with real anger.

“I am, and if it was Valter or Gharnef I probably would have died. I mean, I wouldn’t have attacked them with an oar because of that, but the point I’m making is that we’re all living on borrowed time. We’re bouncing from war to war, our allies are a chaotic mix of friends and foes… who knows if any of us will see tomorrow. I know that if I wake up tomorrow you’re someone that I want to see, and if one day I don’t see you it would hurt but… over all my life will have been better for having known you.”

“Fjorm, no matter what you’ve made such an impression on me that if the Rite of Frost took you now, it would hurt me no less than if it does ten years from now. I… I was afraid to tell you how I felt, ‘cause I’m a little bit of a coward like that, but… no one in the Order has my heart, except you.”

Fjorm’s world came crashing down, as she struggled to find a singular emotion to cling to. Her mouth hung agape, and she though she didn’t want to admit it she could feel tears threatening to return. The former princess closed her eyes and began taking long, deep breathes. Her heart pounded and her ears burned. There was no way to maneuver around such a direct confession of love. The pounding of her heart cleared the way for the first emotion to emerge from the maelstrom within her, Joy. Her long held; quiet pining wasn’t for nothing. Other thoughts, anxieties tried to batter their way back in, but she was tired of it. Whatever else there was to worry about could wait until the sun rose.

Fjorm took the crown from atop her head and thoughtlessly tossed it somewhere into the room, where it clattered loudly against hard wood and papers. She only opened her eyes to assert that the summoner was still before her and without hesitation she kissed him. Fully, passionately, as though this one act were to convey all of the long nights she spent telling herself her feelings couldn’t be, the longing to be near him, the wish to feel his heat. It was met with a delayed but equal passion that ignited every inch of her.

Fjorm’s arms found their way around his shoulders, and acting now with a long denied freedom she ground herself into Kiran’s lap, a wave of eagerness washing over her to relieve a pressure she couldn’t on her own. Finally, she broke away, though only a space of inches lay between them.

“Show me your devotion,” her words settled on Kiran with a finality that brokered no deviation. She spoke wit all the authority a princess could muster, leaden with purpose.

Without hesitation Kiran attacked Fjorm’s neck, unleashing a torrent of nibbles and bites intermingled with kissed. Unrestrained Fjorm groaned and quivered at her lover’s assault, followed by a surprised “oh!” and a giggle as his hands found their way to her thighs and without much consideration lifted her as he rose to his knees. Her turned and lowered her beneath him so that she might rest her head on his pillow before once more engaging in feverish kisses along her neckline.

Grinning Fjorm closed her eyes and rested her hands over her head, content to let her summoner lavish her. Her summoner, she thought. How… right that sounded in her head. How right the heat in face felt as his lips journeyed to cover ever inch of exposed skin, punctuated by the tingles of suckling. How right it felt when one of his hands found the exposed skin between her thigh highs and the hem of her skirt. His fingers explored her so tenderly, as though he needed to memorize the sensations of her skin in this moment lest he never know them again.

Then, it was wrong. His lips departed her skin and his weight disappeared from above her she opened her eyes to see him sliding down the bed, spreading her thighs. Fjorm’s breathe hitched as she watched him push the edges of her skirt up to her waist, slow and deliberate like he were unveiling a great treasure. She was now crossing into unfamiliar territory. While she had snuck kisses from young infatuations, she had never so clearly been on display. The creamy seafoam of her undergarments the only thing between her and full indecency. Her legs began to tremble.

“Are you okay Fjorm?”

“Yes I… I have just never had a man… between.. my…” her cheeks burned at her admissions, nervous to complete it.

“Are you worried?” His tone was… playful? Suddenly, she felt as though she couldn’t meet his eyes, suddenly they were too direct, too mischievous.

“Of-Of course not!”

“Good,” The summoner said as he lowered himself onto his stomach. Reverently he began kissing her inner thigh.

Fjorm loved and hated it.

The brushing of his lips was tantalizing and shiver inducing. Her passions between grew, and embarrassingly she thought that once Kiran turned his attentions northward, he would be well aware of her need. Fjorm had only so very rarely worked herself into such a condition before attending to her aching and it surprised her that they had hardly done anything and she wanted nothing more than to rub away her own building frustrations. That she couldn’t deny the lust building in her was freeing, and anxiety inducing.

Without comment Kiran lazily kissed his way to the line of fabric between him and her, darkening before his eyes. Kiran pressed his thumb gingerly against the wet fabric and began stroking, inciting a gasp from his lover. Breathlessly she watched him watching her, watched as shades of strawberry colored his cheeks and she realized he seemed… hesitant?

“Kiran,” she whispered. “Please…”

Her quite encouragement, dripping with need roused the Summoner from his thoughts. He found the waistband of her panties and pulled them away, over her knees and off all together, tossing them somewhere in his candlelit room. Returning to position, Fjorm now freely felt the breath of her once untouchable crush fully on the aroused nub at top of her slit. Suddenly she didn’t know what to do with herself, it was antagonizing to watch while he deliberated.

Kiran’s hands found rest on the space between her thighs, and with his thumbs he gingerly pulled at the lips of her womanhood, revealing her pink treasure slick and ready.

“I love how your hair has these natural highlights. In my world no one’s hair does that naturally, but even your-“

“Kiran!” This time her urgency was backed by frustration, why must he make her wait? The summoner smiled at her sheepishly, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

Fjorm suddenly found herself wondering if he had done this before. She had made the assumption; Kiran was generally very knowledgeable but maybe her assumptions were ill-considered. Was she forcing him into something he wasn’t ready for?

Before that thought could take root his lips seized her clitoris, causing her to cry out in surprise. Drawing her into his mouth he suckled and nibbled with no real rhythm or intention. It seemed his plan was an all-out attack, and as Fjorm fought the urge to ensnare his head between her legs so wondered if there was any more that it needed to be. Her eyes shut, and she focused his ministrations.

Kiran soon found that Fjorm made the best noises when he stimulated her nub consistently, and began trying on circular motions and strange patterns. Without consideration the former princess pressed against his face, trying desperately to get closer, needing to feel something against her lips. She reached down grabbing a hold of Kiran’s hair as though it were a harness to which she could hold onto. Unable to fight it further her thighs closed in around her lover’s head as she was seized by her pleasure erupting from her body.

It was paramount to Fjorm that she did not make a sound. Even as her orgasm convulsed through her like a stormfront untamed and thunderous she refused to utter even a moan, the only control she could achieve. As her thighs tightened Kiran finally released her nub, sensitive and throbbing. Kiran patiently waited as the tension in her body subsided, tenderly stroking her thighs. When Fjorm’s eyes opened, struggling to focus she looked down at her red faced lover, sandwich between her thighs, a doofy grin plastered on his.

“If I die between your thighs it’ll be worth it.”

Alarmed, she released him, unaware of just how hard she had been squeezing.

“I’m so sorry!”

The summoner shrugged.

“You smell sweet Fjorm.”

“Wha?”

As if to punctuate the statement he leaned close to her and took a deep breath, then took one prolonged lick from the bottom to the top of her slit, causing Fjorm to tense and shudder.

“God…” was all he said as he began cleaning up her discharged pleasure. Fighting not to ensnare him once against between her thighs Fjorm’s whole body cleanched as he opened her wide. His fervor reminded her of a man who had been denied water now free to drink his fill. As her hips began to lift in response he wrapped his arms around her thighs as if to brace her against him, and idly she wondered if he felt like she was saving his life.

How arrogant, she chided herself… yet his fervor could not be denied.

It was quicker than she expected. Her orgasm had felt like the release of a dozen nights of her own self-stroked pleasure. She had certainly not entered their midnight tryst with an unlit flame, but now as her back arched off the bed, pined down and open by Kiran’s arms, that pressure was returning rapidly.

“Kiran…. Kiran stop,” she did her best to muster a command, though she wasn’t sure how loud it had come out. Immediately though he did, without hesitation, and Fjorm was thankful for the reprieve if only for a moment. Fjorm made to pull herself up, to which Kiran released her legs and looked at the man between her thighs.

His har was messy and tousled as though he had spent hours riding a horse, grinning, lips covered in her love. The sight made her heart skip a beat, and she knew exactly what she wanted.

“Kiran, undress for me.”

Kiran rolled off the bed with youthful vigor, plopping down on his feet. Taking a deep breath, he unclasped his belt buckle and his heavy trousers pooled at his feet, revealing thin white shorts adorned with pale hearts, clasped at the front with a button that felt, in the moment, like a herald announcing the arrive of his swollen joy, tenting forward as if to say hello. Using two hands he lifted his shirts over his head, revealing a chest that, like his hands, had once been soft from a gentle life was becoming pronounced from months of training. His nipples stood hard like dark pebbles against his skin.

Fjorm slid off the bed, her dress once more hiding the excitement between her thighs, and before he could remove his undergarments she pulled him into a powerful kiss. Their tongues met eagerly, and she was surprised at her own sweetness on his lips. She had never tasted herself before, but in this moment it felt as though she was savoring a well earned victory.

Fjorm was not idle however, her hands seeking the prize she had intended all along. Her thing fingers grazed his chest, finding the nub like protrusions, and as then tickled and tantalized Kiran moaned into Fjorm’s mouth. She grinned. When Kiran made to bring her into his embrace she pushed his hands away, and broke their kiss.

Fjorm now began placing her own kisses down Kiran’s neck, silently exulting as his skin goose bumped beneath her lips. The Summoner seemed prone to teasing, to taking his time, but she did not share his patience in the moment. Her lips seized one of his nipples, and as he had aggressed against her clit, she returned the same intensity against him.

The way Kiran cried out was uninhibited and reminded her of the kind she would hear from the bawdy houses in the furthest parts of the castle town in Nifl. Gunnthra had explained to her then that men and women would pay each other for their time in this way, though Fjorm was only just becoming a woman she didn’t see the appeal of such a racket. As her arms snaked around to his posterior, which she grasped through the thin fabric, she switched to his other nipple, and pulled their bodies together.

For the first time she felt his arousal pressed against their stomachs. The full sensation of it was obscured be their clothes, but still she felt encouraged. As she suckled on him, her hands naughtily found their way beneath his to cupping his buttocks. Firmer then she expected, she grasped and stroked greedily. This time Kiran’s moan was a struggle to say her name, and she felt as though she knew then why people loved that noise.

Suddenly Kiran was free of Fjorm who set about removing her dress. Though her voice was muffled, she order Kiran with all of her noble authority, to strip his underclothes and lay on the bed. Tossing the dress to the side she was as nude as she had ever been in front of someone who wasn’t family, or a servant of the same gender. She turned to face Kiran settling on the bed, displaying herself before him.

Her breasts were modest but tipped with perfectly round areola crowned by two cute nipples. Kiran looked astonished and enraptured by her, and she couldn’t blame him. She was a warrior trained, the wielder of Leiptr, and while her cloths were bulky her muscles were well formed. Her body shined in the candlelight, highlighted by the liquid efforts of their love making. In this moment she allowed herself perhaps a haughty pride, never so thankful for sweat in her life.

Kiran was awestruck on the bed, his undergarments hanging around his ankle. The summoner’s rod jutting up from his dark mound, proudly. Fjorm stalked toward him more confident than she would have ever thought, and kissed him once more before pushing him down onto his back. She climbed up over him, centering herself above him.

Kiran looked as though he were going to speak but Fjorm held up a single finger, demanding compliance. She knew what to do from here, from her reading and her sister. She was fully aroused, which meant that she should be able to accept him into her with little issue. Fjorm reached between them, and took hold of his member in one hand, resting her thumb against his head. Kiran’s breath hitched in response, which delighted her.

For the first time in her life Fjorm was holding a penis. Kiran would be inside her momentarily. Reaching with her other hand she collected her own emissions and began spreading along this head and shift. Kiran hissed and cooed as she lubricated him.

“Are you ready?” she asked. If she was to have regrets, she knew, they would come later.

“I… I am.” The summoner rose onto his elbows, and their eyes met. She saw in him the same mixture of desire and excitement, but for the first time she noticed a hint of apprehension in his voice. She wondered if this was for him as well a line that could never be crossed again.

“What are you ready for?” she asked, wanting clarification. She hadn’t intended it to say it as anything other than her desire to know his consent but need filled her voice and she spoke unintentionally with that regal authority. His body spoke for him, tensing beneath her, his lip quivering.

“I… want you, Fjorm.” The truth, she knew. It was then likely, she decided, he was as inexperienced as she. Though she found that she well and true liked this bashful supplication. She lowered herself, the head of his cock dividing her folds carefully, inch by inch until she had swallowed him whole. Fjorm bit her lip to silence herself, though Kiran made no such effort. His moan was shallow, half an exaltation of held breath but it pleased her all the same.

They sat there, getting used to the feel of each other. Kiran was so different compared to her fingers, the only other things that had been inside her. Once, the Anna of Ylisse had tried to sell her on a phallus made by her own hands. It had quite a fine finish, but ultimately Fjorm feared what people would say if they discovered her purchase, but also that it would be took big to inside her, that it might hurt her.

Kiran filled her, she felt, to the perfect amount. Her nethers were alive in a way they had never been before, and she took a moment to simply savor it. Testing it. She clenched around him, gleeful as he shuddered between her, and practiced a shallow rocking. Kiran’s hands found their way to her thighs, just above her cut off stocking, and rubbed her tenderly as she accommodated herself on him.

Her timid writhing became to evolve as Fjorm started to lift herself off him, inch by inch. Kiran made to match her, pulling away as she did and pressing against her as she came down. They adopted a wider circular motion, and soon their pace quickened. When they came together her pleasure button pressed against him, heightening the sensations that she tried to suppress, to prolong their intimacy. Kiran was a noisy man, she found. He filled the room with grunts and sighs, stifled moans and every time she made his voice crack she felt as sense of true accomplishment.

The Summoner was not idle beneath her however. He pulled her down over him, and as they rutted he lavished her breasts with his lips. His kisses were insistent, his bites were needy, and she was certain that in the morning he going to have left bruises all along her chest. Indecently, she was excited to have reminders of their night for the morning. A night she was afraid would be coming to an end soon.

Fjorm no longer felt as though she could control herself, she was becoming lost to the desire within her. Cheering her on, encouraging her to be more forceful, more dominant. To claim what was hers. She knew she would orgasm again, and as her humping became feverish in pace she realized she had no idea if Kiran was close. Her body demanded release, the promise of all of her nights of denial. Despite all reason to the contrary, she demanded that if tonight would be the only night, it was remain burned in their minds forever.

Fjorm buried her face in his neck, losing the last modicum of authority she was exhibiting on herself but still desperate to hide her lustful cries, so she uttered them into Kiran’s neck, entangling herself arm and leg as though she feared she would fly away. Finally, she seized his cock inside her, quivering vigorously as her orgasm erupted harder than she had ever before experienced. Forced onto his back, Fjorm now flush with his chest, Kiran had nowhere left to hide his own expression. So as Fjorm stilled above him Kiran grabbed onto her rear, thrusting into her with the same wild need.

“Fj…fjorm…” he panted, and as the princess finished convulsing astride him, she cupped his cheek, and turned him to face her on his pillow.

“Yes?” she said dreamily.

“I…” was all he could manage.

“Do it,” she whispered. “I want to feel you.” How her siblings would have reacted had they heard her quiet, authoritative proclamation. She banished the thought, the moment was hers and his alone. Kiran, it seemed to her, liked to be spoken to this way. As though he were waiting for permission he released, thrusting fervently into her still. Fjorm bit her bottom lip as he filled her, his adoration gooey and warming. As she expected his final moan was his most powerful, most needful, and to her mind, belonged the most to her. So she seized it with her lips, a kiss returned eventually with the cessation of pleasure.

Fjorm found the perfect pillow on her lovers’ chest, and while he had certainly begun to speak she couldn’t for the life of her discern what he was saying. Words were for the morning, and for the first time in ages, she was fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> As I said above, this was a pairing requested by an anonymous commentator. It was the last of three, and what sealed for me to not delete my work in a fit of anxiety like I always had before. I have plans for the other requests I am received, so I wanted to do something stand alone for that kind anon. 
> 
> At the same time I have been reading *a lot* of ExaltedBrand's fics, which are very fantastic, and I really enjoy the way the their characters come across and fully realized and to a greater degree than normal faithful to their depictions in the original fiction. It is inspiring, and something I want to become proficient in as well, so this is also a first out attempt at building a narrative through line, and trying to keep Fjorm consistent with how she acts in game. Tbh, reading her wiki (cause its been a few years since I thought about Fjorm) made me really appreciate her a way I didn't before, and also caused me to raise her in the last tempest trial lol. 
> 
> Anyways, hopefully you guys enjoyed!


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